Boom, boom, SCRIBE!...Droplets of water making perfect circles. How does that happen? Cylinder shaped water droplets making circles. Micro ones, gigantic ones! ... The Diamante is

Boom, boom, SCRIBE! 1

Boom, boom, SCRIBE!

We’re indeSCRIBE-able!

an anthology of writing, submitted by Creative Inklings campers and teachers

2 Creative Inklings


…for if I knew all I should, I would not write.

~Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz (translation from the original)

4 Creative Inklings

Boom, Boom, ScribeAmina KhatunPoem

Boom, boom, scribe!We’re indescribable. We write so awesomelythat it’s unthinkable.Our stories are so flashingthat they’re undefeatable.We write like authors and that gives us no bother.This camp is like really cool,and no one in it is a fool.Boom, boom, scribe!We’re indescribable.

Boom, Boom, ScribeRaquel MalcolmPoem Boom, boom, scribe!We’re indescribable. No matter what, our writing is undeniable.Boom, boom, scribe!We’re indescribable. Our writing’s so good.It’s unquestionable.Boom, boom, scribe!We’re indescribable. You can’t describe us.We’re indescribable.


FlowersAlexandra ChabowskiPoem

Flowers everywhere:they brighten our world with their spectacular colors.They make the world colorful,and they make it cheerful.Flowers, with their wonderful smells, make us forget about troubles. With flowers, we relax.

Nature’s GiftAlexandra ChabowskiHaiku

Flowers everywhere Brightening gloomy worldsScents are left behind

Summer Alexandra ChabowskiPoem

Summer day, summer night.The sun goes up. The sun goes down. Flowers bloom.Summer day, summer night.

6 Creative Inklings

Friends Alexandra Chabowski Acrostic Poem

Forever loyalRespect you Indicating who you are Eventually argue Nevertheless make up Decisions to agree uponSaving you from troubles

Spring Night Alexandra Chabowski Poem

The flowers stand still under the shining moonlight, under the shining stars.The crickets make noise. The wolves howl at the moon.The wind whistles lowmaking the leaves move.Under the shining stars, the flowers stand still.

Spring is Coming Alexandra ChabowskiTanka - a Japanese poem consisting of 31 syllables in 5 lines, with 5 syllables in the

first and third lines and 7 in the others.

Flowers are blooming Growing grasses are greenerTress are filled with leavesDays are filled with rain showers Finally spring is coming


Gloomy Rain Alexandra Chabowski Poem

The rain is falling from the dark, sad clouds.The rain is falling leaving you to feel blue.

The rain is falling making wet, muddy puddles.The rain is falling. There’s nothing to do.

The rain is falling. Can’t help feeling blue. The rain is falling:a million little raindrops.

DanceAlexandra ChabowskiPoem

Gracefully danceMoving to every rhythm Smiling brightlyNot showing any fearPrecisely dance

8 Creative Inklings

UntitledAlexandra Chabowski Poem

I let go. I moved on.I forgot about you.But every time I see you, my heart pounds. Your eyes plea.I can’t breathe. You take my hand, holding it tight. You took me away.

Me Nadija Mujakic Poem

Anything that I’m going to bedepends on me. I can make something delectableor be something incredible. A car I can drive. I might even have five.My future is unknown,but I know it can’t be torn,

PainNadija Mujakic Poem

My heart is mixed, and it can’t be fixed.You break it once. It recovers in months.But the pain will always stay.


ColdnessNadija MujakicPoem The water in the river makes me want to shiver‘cause the coldness—it brings me and lets me remember—the warmth of summer.

Colors & Rhymes Nadija MujakicPoem

Just because we don’t have a clue doesn’t mean we have to be blue.Don’t just sit around in your bed. Smell the flowers that are red.If you like the color yellow,then be kind of mellow. The colors of the rainbow don’t mean anything to me, but that doesn’t mean we can’t look and see.

PiMrs. Gilbert-RylePoem

Pi 3.14159265358979323846Droplets of watermaking perfect circles.How does that happen?Cylinder shaped water dropletsmaking circles.Micro ones, gigantic ones!Multitudes of diameter and radiusPi 3.14159265358979323846

10 Creative Inklings

TimeMs. KinsmanPoem

Time just flies by.Time to get up. Time to go to work.Time to eat lunch.Time to relax.Time to work.Time to play.Time to eat dinner.Time to talk.Time to shower. Time to go to bed.Where did all the time go?By the way, what time is it?

God’s SplendorMrs. Gilbert-RylePoem

One God, infinite species.Eternal God, assigned life spans.Omnipresent God, unnoticed patterns and details.Omnipotent God, even in the smallest blade of grass.Alpha and Omega in the blink of an eye.

I see you in the eagles’ wing.I feel you in the swaying trees.I smell you in the daffodils.I hear you in the buzz of the bees.I found you in my breath, my heart beat, and the tiny hairs aligned up my arm.

One GodCreator


Why?Mrs. Gilbert-RylePoem

Whimsical whispers wondering within.Hacking human hallucinations.Yearning yaks yelp YYYYYYYYY??!!

An Adventure Luthfor KhanNarrative

As I walk through a vast rainforest, which is too humid and too hot to walk through, I see insects are everywhere. I finally made it to the top of a cliff, looking down at my long hike. When I hike down the cliff, the sun will burn my back and the hike will hurt my legs. It’s nice to know after a long hike through the rainforest that I can stop and look at a serene view.

Pop RocksLuthfor KhanOnomatopoeia Poem

Shake, shake, shake.Pop rocks are being dumped into my mouth.Sizzle, sizzle. The pop rocks are about to explode. Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop. The candy is bouncing around in my mouth.

The WindDesmond SmithPoem

I hear the wind blowwhile the birds are chit-chattering.It is so hot out here.


An Ant’s Point of ViewLuthfor KhanNarrative

As ants crawl away, I wonder about their point of view. For an ant, every kid’s footstep must feel like an earthquake. For us, things are a lot different. Trails that take us a minute to walk must take a week without a distraction. The grass must feel like bendable trees. Pine cones act like genomes rocks. For the ants, the world must be a lot bigger. When the wind blows, it must feel like a hurricane, and when the wind blows through sand, it must feel like a sand storm.

Cranbrook GardenLuthfor KhanNarrative

The church bells are ringing. The flowers have just bloomed. The aroma of the flowers have merged together to create one wonderful smell. The birds are chirping as if they are saying good morning and hello to each other and to us. The wind moves and rustles the leaves of a huge tree. As I listen, I know that this is one of the most peaceful places to be.

Against the OddsMs. MaslowskiDiamente PoemThe Diamante is a form similar to the Cinquain. The text forms the shape of a

diamond. (see format in the appendix).

CancerDestructible, Vindictive

Menacing, Debilitating, EncompassingPowerful, Horrifying, Considerate, Caring

Dedicated, Determined, Strong-willedWoman, Aunt

Patricia


Forest Amina Khatun Poem

A forest with leaves, lush and green,with trees, fruits, and vegetables like beans.You take in the air, and life seems fair.Birds here and there,animals roaming everywhere.It’s a beautiful place to be—a peaceful place for you and me.You must believe me for I am no faker.This forest is full of life in every acre.

ChairAmina KhatunPoem

Chair, oh chair, when I sit upon you,I might be happy or I might be blue.For myself, I feel sorry,but you don’t have to worry.You’re serving me well, just like you should.

The WinterDesmond SmithPoem

The winter is cold.The snowflakes fall from the sky.I will catch a cold.


BombasticAmina KhatunAcrostic Poem

BoomOutstandingMiracleBurstingAmazingSereneTremendousIridescentColossal

Someone Real and TrueAmina KhatunPoem

After we meet and know each other really well, our hearts won’t want to say farewell.But good-bye will come along, and we’ll have to hold back and be really strong.

The SummerDesmond SmithPoem

The summer is fun.This is going to be hot, hot!Oooh, Ouch! My feet burn.


The GirlsDesmond SmithFiction

One day there was this girl named Carly. All Carly did was cry and scream. It was time for bed, so I put Carly to sleep. At 4: 30 a.m., Carly woke up. When she woke up, she started to jump on me and cry.

I said, “I can’t take it no more!” So, the first thing in the morning, I took her home.

After that, I went to go pick up my daughter. Her name is Amani. Amani isn’t a big problem for me. All she does is eat and sleep. I just sat the table full of food. All I could hear in Amani’s mouth was crunch, crunch, and crunchhhhhhhhhhhh.

I finally put her to sleep.

Camp InklingsDesmond SmithPoem

Camp Inklings is fun.We get to go on field trips.It’s about writing.

Cranbrook GardensDesmond SmithPoem

The brick walls are tall.It looks like a big forest.There are many tall trees.


My SummerDesmond SmithNarrative

It was the last day of school. At lunch, we had pizza and salad. I was halfway finished with my food when I threw a piece of lettuce at this boy.

He asked, “Who threw that?” I pointed to this boy named David. The boy then threw a piece of

pepperoni at David. After he threw the pepperoni, I yelled out, “Food fight!!” The food fight ended a second later. It was a huge mess in one

second. Half of the school got detention, and the other half of the school got a suspension. When I was walking home, I thought to myself, What if my parents are happy that I started the one-second food fight?

When I got home, my parents were mad that I started the one-second food fight. I had to go to my room. While I was in my room, a bird flew through my window. I looked up at the bird, and the bird said hello to me. I thought I was having a dream. So I closed my eyes. Then I opened my eyes and the bird was still there.

Thirty seconds later, the bird started back saying,” Hello!” I was like, this can’t be happening to me.

So, I went to go tell my parents. They didn’t believe me. Just for starting that one-second food fight, I had to stay in my

room for the rest of the summer.


Snakes Island Mushtary ChowdhuryNarrative

As I was stuck on the island I thought to myself: am I going to make it out of here alive?

As I was thinking to myself, I heard a hissing sound. “Did you hear that?” I asked my friend.

“Hear what?” she replied. “That noise!” I said. “What noise?” she answered.

As I was talking to my friend, I felt something heavy, smooth and a bit slimy, slither on top of my foot. I felt it tightening. It got tighter and tighter. And then I looked down. I saw the snake. My friend screamed and so did I.

Oh, HouseMrs. DobosStory Poem

Oh, house,the stories you could tell us.The people, the parties, the glamorous times.The day-to-day life you have witnessed.I’m sure you’ve seen your share of joys and sorrows, of laughter and tears.The quiet times, the loud voices, the good and bad times.The people within your walls.The rich, the servants—you’ve seen them all.Life is so quiet for you now.Not the life you’ve known for so many years.Relax house, enjoy it.You’ve earned it.Oh, house, the stories you could tell us.


Everything ChangesMrs. DobosRandom Thoughts

These gardens, though well-worn, are simply grand. There is so much to see and experience. The gardens represent wealth and a glorious, glamorous time and life-style. All of the plants and flowers were probably well-thought out and carefully placed so that something is always in bloom.

So old, so serene. A quiet place for a nanny with a baby carriage while its occupant soak up the afternoon spring sunshine while napping. The nanny writes her secrets in her diary. Workers scurry about, caring for the grounds, gardens, flowers, and fountains. Children frolic on the lawn, running and giggling their way through the day. Lawn games, tag, make-believe, perhaps a game of hide-and-seek at dusk before being called upon to return to the house.

A place for lovers to stroll, holding hands, whispering, laughing and nodding. Close enough to the house to be trusted, yet far enough away from a watchful eye behind the curtain of an upstairs window. A stolen kiss in the moonlight.

Long rustling dresses sweep the walks and lawns. Parasols are used to protect the delicate ivory skin.

Unhurried conversations. Lemonade, garden gatherings. The life of the privileged. A long ago forgotten time……croquet anyone?


Hot, Hot, HotMrs. DobosPoetry

It’s a hot summer day,too hot to go outside and play.Go float in the pool.Drink lots of iced tea.Take a walk by the sea.Think of last winterwhen we were so cold.Try and rememberwhat it was like last December:the snow and the icewere not very nice.How we longed to get warmduring the cold winter storm.How dare we complainwhen the heat gets insane?Go on and get wet.Go on, have some fun,and remember these dayswhen we long for the sun!

RainbowPioline ChoudhuryPoetry

Dreams are like a storm;after enduring the hardships,a rainbow is born.


If OnlyMrs. DobosReally random thoughts

If only I could write all daybecause I have so much to say.

It’s a new class.I have to learn to be patient all over again.

I wish that everyone, everywhere,would know that they are loved.

Write about it now.Worry about it later.

LifeMizanur Rahman Poetry

Life is about taking chances and doing things that othersbelieve you can’t do. It’s about believing in yourself and succeeding, no matter what others think about you. You have to chase your dreams and believe. Live life to the fullest. Belief in yourself is the way you succeed. It’s about sacrificing and doing the right thing. So don’t care what others say. Just do the impossible.


Cranbrook Garden Mizanur Rahman Poetry

On July 6, 2010, my camp and I went to the Cranbrook Gardens. The gardens blew my eyes away. This garden is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. This beautiful garden inspired me.It felt like one of the best moments in my life. I hope I come here every year. The garden refreshes my mind and helps me forget about my daily life. This beautiful garden calms my emotions and me down. To me, this area feels like I’m in my own creative world.

Cranbrook Oriental Garden Mizanur Rahman Poetry

I am sitting under a Japanese maple tree thinking about how much longer this beauty would go on. Sitting under a tree, as the wind is rushing through the air, and birds going tweet tweet makes me feel like I’m in my Land of Paradise. This is the natural beauty of life: listening to the natural sound of nature. The trees swinging back and forth make a calm, natural sound. Hoping this moment goes on for the rest of my life. Shall the show continue?


PerfectionAlmedina AgicPoem The air is alive with something I can’t describe.Sparks are flying.The sky is glowing.The world makes sense for a second.Everything makes sense.I don’t need reasons.I don’t need words.I don’t need worldly possessions.Some things are better free.Your paint-smeared handsmove across the blank canvas.I stare,but not at the picture forming.Instead all I see is your face,your intent expression.Why so serious, love?You must feel my eyes on your face, but your attention is on your masterpiece.I just sit there quietly,humming a tune from my childhood.This is happiness,bliss,raw joy.Your hands stop, hovering over the painting.My breath catches.The painting is of a girl, legs crossed beneath her,staring at someone not in the picture.You turn to look at me,your eyes asking “Do you love it?”I nod, tears stinging my eyes.Your face breaks into a smile.In that moment I realize I’ve fallen in lovewith you, and your paint-smeared hands,


your smile,your soul.You continue the painting,as if nothing happened.I dip my fingers into the gold paintand join you,painting the beginnings of a boy with golden curls and a gorgeous smile.

Lost TreasuresAlmedina AgicPoem Statues crying rust,even water,tears of neglect.How long has it been since they were built?Oh, the thing they have seen.They have such heavy burdens.There are statues.But what will be of us when we are gone? How will we live on? I don’t know.One day we’ll all fade,just a distant memorymuch like these statues here.

UntitledAlmedina AgicPoem A statue holding up a lyre looks up at the sky.She looks mournful.“Rain! Rain! Where are you? Sooth my parched lips and concrete hips!”


Ellen’s GardenAlmedina AgicPoem Flowers surround a pool,towering trees in the background,a lone girl in a purple shirt sitting on a bench,journal open.She’s writing.This garden reminds her of peace,utter bliss.The scene before her calms her,soothes her frazzled nerves.There aren’t enough words to describe this,but questions remain. Who was Ellen?Is this garden a replica of how she was?Who loved her enough to build this for her?Whoever you are or were, Ellen, your garden is breathtaking.I feel at peace with myself.

KevinAlmedina AgicPoem inspired by a National Geographic photograph I try and try, but my best is not good enough.I don’t get everythinglike I’ve heard stories of other kids getting.Mama doesn’t wear fancy dresses;Papa doesn’t always have clean hands.They are caked with mud,sweat, and tears.Life is not easy.The Americans in the village,with their sympathetic smiles,


plain clothes, messy hair—they do not understand us.The struggle I face every morning whether I want to live another day or not.No, they do not understand.-shakes head-But my stomach just growls and growls.I want food, food.My stomach doesn’t need to understand.It just needs food.Though I’m hungry,pride still remains.I don’t go to the Americansunless it’s my last option.I am not poor! We are not poor!We don’t need handouts!I argue in my head.Liar, liar a voice taunts back.Football. It’s my joy,my life.It gives my legs speedeven when I’m weary.It makes me kick the ball away from meas if I were kicking away my poor life.Stay away, hunger, tears, poverty—stay away!I say. I say it until the ball is in the goal.That is why I’m one of the best in our village.That is all I have.


A Free Girl (If Only for a Moment)Almedina AgicShort story

I brace myself for the cold of the water. Lifting up my skirt, I gingerly put a toe into the water. A wild laugh escapes me. It’s perfect.I look around like a bandit, hoping not to be caught. I slowly take off the hideous dress I was forced to wear. A gaudy yellow. It takes me ages. So many layers. Finally I’m free. A shiver of delight runs up my spine, a delight that comes from knowing I shouldn’t be doing this and I am anyway. I jump in, headfirst. Natural instinct takes over, and I feel free.

Love of Mine (A Simple Love Poem)Almedina AgicPoem We’re free for a while,free from judging eyes,tight-lipped frowns.The birds chirp.The air is warm.Somehow with my hands in yours I feel like I can accomplish anything.Together, we’ll face the world, but for right now I’m glad for a moment,just a moment,with you.

UntitledAlmedina AgicPoem Two lions guard the entrance to “Ellen’s Garden”.“Rawr!” they say. “Those will sinful intentions may not enter.” And so I stepped cautiously into her garden.


Black Eyed PeasAlmedina AgicPoem WeirdBoomingGiving me feelingsLondon bridge hasn’t fallen yet, though.Let’s get retarded? Let’s get smart.Get this party started.Yeah, meet you at my mom’s.

MusicAlmedina AgicPoem Loud,heavy,soft,slow,old,new,sad,happy,filled with memories,wild dancing,smiles,listening together,peace,understanding,perfection,meaning,poetry.music.It keeps us alive.


A Day in the Life of a Boy named KevinAlmedina AgicShort Story

I woke up today to the sound of arguing. Mama and Papa arguing over money. Always, always. I turned over, staring at the wall, closing my eyes, trying to go back to sleep. I couldn’t. Soon I reluctantly sat up in bed. I swung my feet over the edge and forced myself up. Everything ached. Football practice always wore me out.

“Kevin! Breakfast!” Mama shouts from the kitchen just as I can hear the door slam.

Papa’s gone for the day. I walk into the kitchen, my bare feet thudding against the dirt floor.

“Eat up, Kevin,” Mama says, moving side to side, cradling Sarah.I stare at the bent and scratched pan on the floor. It’s full of

potatoes. Mashed potatoes. My eyes narrow. “I do not want that food. It is from the Americans,” I say. Mama slaps me clear across the face. It’s a sharp pain. I barely

flinch. I stare at her as if to say physical pain can’t hurt me when I live through this every day. This filth, poverty. She shoos me out of the kitchen. My stomach growls, and yet I refuse to give in. I don’t need their sympathy food. I make my way into the bedroom I share with Michael. He’s still asleep. I stand in the middle of the room for a while, just staring at Michael. What will become of us?


The Best Things End Too SoonAlmedina AgicPoem Dancing slowly,almost swaying,to a fast beatfit for a waltz.You’re holding me close,closer than disapproving eyes can stand.You spin me around and around,and I laugh and laugh.For the first time in a while I feel alive.You set my soul on fire,send shivers down my spine.Oh, if this is sin,a sinner I am!The music stopsand I feel all eyes on us.My eyes are daring you to take it further,see how much you’re willing to push the boundaries,limits of the cage I live in.Your lips meet minefor a long meet and greet.I’m flying,soaring above this dance floor.Then I crash to the ground.All I can do is stand and watch your back as you walk away.


MaybesAlmedina AgicPoem Maybe I’ll love you.Maybe you’ll love me.Maybe we’ll survive.Maybe, maybe. Maybe I’ll stop expecting so much from myself.Maybe I’ll smile more.Maybe I’ll finally respect myself enough.Maybe, maybe. Maybe I’ll stop drowning in a bottle.Maybe I’ll find other ways to be happy.Maybe I’ll do some good.Maybe, maybe. Maybe the war will stop.Maybe we’ll all realize that love is all we ever needed.Maybe things will be okay.Maybe, maybe. Life’s too short for maybes.

Cranbrook GardensPioline ChoudhuryPoetry

As the wind blows, a rush of cool air surrounds me.The leaves and grass shake gently, like millions of brushes.The trees slowly rock back and forth;the flowers dance elegantly, their petals twirling in mid-air.The environment is quiet and serene.


Brian’s Family Trip Mahmuda MouriPlay [Brian is the person who was chosen. Brian was nine years old. In September he is turning ten. He has three older brothers; Brown, Jeffrey and Jiffy. Jiffy is one year younger than Brain. Brown and Jeffrey are working at his mother’s office. His mother has an office with her husband. When Brian was one and his brothers were fourteen and fifteen years old, their father died. His mother has a hard time managing all the work. Right now Brian’s mother has a peaceful life because the brothers are working. One Friday night his mother said, “We are going somewhere to catch fish”. On Friday night they went to bed early because they are going to have to wake up early and leave.] Saturday[Brian wakes up at seven o’clock. He went to the bathroom and after getting out from the bathroom, he saw his mother and his brother were also awake.]

Brian: Hi, Mom. Good morning. Mother: Hi, Brian. You know we are going somewhere, so go change and tell your brother to change, too. Brian: Yes, Mom. I am going right now.

[Brian went to his brother]

Brian: Good morning, brother. Brother: Good morning, Brian. Do you know we are going somewhere? Brian: Mother said to change and get ready. Bye, I need to change, too.

[Everybody is ready and went to the car to go. Mother said they are going to stay there three or four hours. Then everybody is quiet and Brown turns on the song that Brian likes the best. Jeffrey is driving. The time is going well by listing to the song. It takes two hours to get to the place. They left the house at eight o’clock and arrived at ten-thirty.]


Mother: Stop, Brown! This is the right place. Brown: Yes, Mom. We have to park our car. Brian: Mom, this place is so nice. Can we get out of the car? Mother: Yes, sure. Brown: Mom, I will be back. Mother: Come quickly!

[Everybody gets out of the car and looks all around. Mom is waiting for Brown. She wants to catch fish. After waiting five minutes, Brown came. He was carrying all things needed for fishing.]

Mother: Come here, Brown. I am here. Brown: Here are all your things for fishing, Mom. Mother: What? Brown: Can we swim in the water, please? Mother: Yes, you can, but not Brian and Jiffy. Brown: Yes, Mom. Mother: Did you guys bring any other clothes? Brown: Yes, we did. Brian: Can you catch fish, Mom? Mother: Yes, I am going to catch fish. Brian: Can I come with you? Mother: Yes, sure!

[Brian, mom and Jiffy went somewhere to catch fish and my two brothers are in the water. They already have fun.]

Brown: Jeffrey I am going to swim. You want to come with me? Jeffry: Yes Mother: We are going to sit there and catch fish. Brian: Can I go there and play with Jiffy? Mother: Yes, you can. But don’t go far. Brian: Yes, mom.

[Everybody was having fun. After some time later, Mother called Brian’s name. Brian went there and saw nobody was there. He was afraid. Then he turned around and saw his mom standing near the lake. He ran towards his mom. He saw five big fish that his mom had caught. He was so happy.]


Brian: Oh, Mom, you got five fishes! Mother: Yes, my son.

[Brian was playing with fish and gave a hug to all the fishes. He saw his brothers coming and their clothes were wet. Brian knew they were swimming in the water. They were cold. They came to see the fishes. They liked the fishes. They went back to their mom and made a fire to stand near to warm up.]

Mother: Why would you swim in the winter season in the cold water? Jeffrey: Mom, it is fun to swim in the lake. Jiffy: Are you cold, brother? Brown: No, we are hot. You known we swam in the cold water. Why you asking us if we are cold? Mother: Stop, and get ready to go home. We are late. Brian: Mom, are we taking those fishes? Mother: Yes, I caught those fishes. I don’t want to leave them here.

[They went to their car and left. Brian thinks, “We had a lot of fun this Saturday.”]

Summer LovePaige GilbertPoem

Capri Suns are great.Fill my mouth with flavor, please.Time for another!

What Would You Do?Paige GilbertPoem

Klondike Bars. Yummy.Hard on the outside, soft in.Cold treats in the heat.


I Love WritingMahmuda Mouri Poem

I love writing because writing is the best thing.Best way to find a good place.Best way to be a doctor.Best way for me, too.

I love writing because it’s the most important thing,Most important for a scientist.Most important for good people.Most important for me, too.

Special ToolMs. ThompsonPoem

Why are you special?You’re special because you aid me in my escape. You help create what is beautiful to me.Peace.Peace and Serenity. I use you when I venture into me. Me, me all alone, all alone to ponder,to ponder over what’s next on my agenda, to ponder over whether I’m going to ponder or not. Maybe I won’t, maybe I’ll sit here relaxed, holding you in one hand and works of art from nature in the other,works of art that beautifies and nourishes, nourishes my mind as well as my body, but it’s my mind that you help relax.Relaxation is the key, the key to why I keep you close to me.


ChangeMahmuda Mouri Poem The season is changing, and the day is changing, too.Does anybody knowwhen people change?

Today is a sunny day, and then tomorrow is a rainy day.Does anybody knowwhen the day changes?

Today is an earthquake, and then tomorrow is a tornado. Does anybody knowwhen that stops?

Today the sun is shining, and tomorrow the cloud is running.Does anybody knowwhen that stops?

Yes, only one person knows. Who is it?God is the only person Who knows.


Ono-ma to The Poeia Ms. ThompsonPoem

“Wow, this is so quiet and serene,” I thought as I sat in the grass relaxing…Splish, splash.Ding, dang, dong.“Ha,ha,ha.”Twirp, twirp, Eek, eeEek, eek, eeEek.Vroom, vrooooom.Swoooosh.Sputter, sputter, sputter.Keek, keeEEk, KeeEEk.Whuuur, whuuur.Beep, beep, beep, beep.Clip, clap, clip, clap, clip, clap.Ding, dang, dong, dong, dang, ding.Twirp, twirp, twirp, twirp.SweeEEErp, SweeEEErp, sweeEEErp.Thump, thump, vroom.Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch.Hă, hă, hă,hă, hă.Crunch, crunch, crunch.Cahooo, Cahooo, Cahooo.Flip, flap.Scribble, scribble.Whuuuur, whuuur, whuuur.WhoooEEp, WhoooEEp.Ruff, ruff, ruff.“Hey, Matt!”Swoooosh!“Hey, guys.”Tweet, tweet, tweet.“Come here!”Buzz, buzz, buzzzzz.Cahooo, cahooo, cahooo.


Twirp, twirp, twirp.Buzz,buzz, buzzzz.I never stopped to realize that it wasn’t the quietness of the gardens that relaxes me; it has been all the noises of nature all along.

Who is She?Ms. ThompsonPoem

Who is she?Where is she going? Why is she leading him (us)?What are her intentions? We have immortalized her with bronze: a statue of history.

Yet, I can almost see… the sway in her skirt, his smile get wider, the staff’s bow bend, her scarf flutter from the wind.

Who are we because of her?Where would we be if she never came?Why do we forget the hardships of the past?What great accomplishments she made!

I could answer, “Who?”I could answer, “Where?”I could answer, “What?”But “Why?” holds an answer that is lost in yesteryear and far too deep for me alone to reach.


Calling Me CloserRaquel MalcolmPoem The birds soar above my head, and the wind calls my name.The flowers grow plentiful, and the trees are old but strong.A leaf is floating on top of the water, having a dip in the pool.Water comes out of a spout, sounding like rain, if you’re close.Just close your eyes and listen to it all:there are bees buzzing,birds chirping,woodpeckers pecking,a dragonfly flying,and all of this is calling me to come closer.

Gentle BreezeRaquel MalcolmHaiku A gentle breeze flowsThrough my hair, calling my nameI sit and enjoy

ButterflyRaquel MalcolmHaiku Pretty butterflyFlaps its’ wings near a flowerTo get its’ dinner


LusciousRaquel MalcolmAcrostic Poem Look we’reUndefeatableSuperColossalIrresistibleOutstanding UnchangeableStupendous kids

An Ancient Greek God Just Wanted Some WaterRaquel MalcolmShort Story The ancient Greek God, Zeus, wanted some water. He made his servants go get him some. Zeus thought they were loyal to him. He knew what they were going to do, they were going to poison Zeus, and eat him. Once they got to the bones they would use them to become Gods themselves. Their plan didn’t work though; Zeus banished them to a land that nobody knew existed, and turned them into stone. They are holding a giant bowl full of water on their knees. Every once and a while you can see them cry. Cranbrook Gardens: First StopMs. KnightObservations

…while pieces of the tree fall on my arms, on my notebook, to remind me to spend more time outside, the fountain flows—a meager stream that awaits the rainy season—and the man on the wall still cries if someone comes too near .


The Forbidden WallMs. KnightFiction

The children played their games in this yard: foot races, tag, hide-and-seek. They had played croquet. They had thrown horseshoes and lawn darts in a civilised, organised fashion while their fathers smoked their cigars in the stables and their mothers drank tea and held their parasols to protect their lily-white skin from the sun.

Their Sundays went on like this, week after week during the summer season. There was rarely any variation on these themes until one day when she hit the ball too hard. It bounced off a rock in the garden of the reflecting pool and flew over the forbidden wall. She had always minded her elders and had never walked too close to this wall. Now that her ball was on the other side, she had to look to see where it had gone. She could clearly see the red ball with white stripes, lying on the brown forest floor between the green leaves of undergrowth. This wall appeared only two feet high from the side on which they played. Looks were deceiving. This wall dropped twelve feet on the other side. Being only three feet tall, she didn’t know that, though. She only knew that there were no stairs that she could see to reach the other side of the garden wall.

She imagined the wrath of her father when he’d learned of her carelessness. She feared the back of his hand and the leather of his belt more than she feared any injury she might sustain from falling over the forbidden wall. *British spellings used in honor of the Cornish history at Cranbrook House


Cranbrook Gardens Reflecting PoolMs. KnightPoem

The first thought is of natural beauty: the flowers, the grasses, the hedges, the trees.

The second thought is of created beauty: the reflecting pool. the stone walls, the iron rails, the fountains, the statues.

The third thought is of wealth: once upon a time, did a family call this home and assume that everyone lived this way?

Not ComplainingMs. KnightPoem

My shoes are dusty; my feet are dirty. My t-shirt is drenched in sweat. My hair is wet; the breeze has died. But there are trees, and a waterfall, and writers nearby. It’s a great place;it’s a great wayto spend a Tuesday.


Multiple-authorship

The following pieces of writing were inspired by Ms. Thompson’s lesson and these pictures:

Dancing Alexandra Chabowski and Almedina AgicShort Story in Two Voices

My heart is racing like crazy. All the moves have to be precise. I feel like I’m flying, soaring high above the audience. Fly Nina, fly! If you don’t make it now, you never will! And so I think back on every practice, trying to move gracefully and perfectly. My life is on the line; my career is on the line. Even my mother’s here. My mother? My heart pounds faster, faster. The air can’t come into my lungs fast enough. Afraid, alive. Everything.

As I was dancing gracefully and precisely, I was becoming more and more sure of myself. We’re going to win this, I thought. We’ve put more work to this than anyone else in this competition. If we don’t win, then all those practices weren’t worth it. All those long hours and hard days aren’t going to be worth it! As I turned to the cheering crowd, with a beaming smile, I notice Nina’s mother. This explains why she was so nervous. My smile turned into a frown, and I thought, this is going to be a disaster!


Snapshot, ThoughtshotMs. Maslowski, Pioline Choudhury, Amina Khatun, Mushtary ChowdhuryNarrative

Buzz!My eyes burst open at the sound of the alarm clock, still ringing in

my ears. Barely conscious, I rolled off my bed, crashing onto the floor. My schedule fell from my night stand onto my face.

“I’m late!” I yelled.I frantically threw on my clothes and brushed my teeth. I chugged

down my morning cup of coffee and ran out the door, hearing the latch click behind me. I zoomed through my regular downtown route, only to find out that today, of all days, the streets were packed with a never-ending line of cars, all speeding past. The sidewalks were no better; many people, like me, were all hurrying to their destinations.

Still in a hurry, my hopes of arriving on time were shattered as I was forced to stop at the crosswalk. Although I regularly come here, I’ve never noticed the skyscrapers that rocket into the sky, engulfing the whole area in darkness. My heart pounded with joy as the stoplight finally turned red. However, I no longer felt rushed and stressed. I casually walked across, taking note of nearby structures I wouldn’t have noticed otherwise.

As I was nearing the sidewalk, my eyes locked with another man’s—his deathly gaze seemed to pierce through me as I was walking past. Only one thought crossed my mind: Where have I seen this person before?

Alas, the crowd was moving too quickly. In a flash, the man was gone.

The Embarrassing Moment Nadija Mujakic and Ms. Kinsman Short story

As I’m walking down a busy street in New York, I notice a man in a black leather jacket staring at me. I wonder if I know him from somewhere. As I get closer to him, my glasses get steamed up. Now I really look like a fool because I can’t see him. I’m confused because of all the flashbacks in my head. As I was wiping the steam from my glasses, I remembered who he was. He was the guy who towed my car away. I made my decision and just ignored him.


McDonald’sRaquel Malcolm and Mrs. DobosThoughtshot

As I reflect back on this photo, I never realized how much weight my body carried when I was a child. I loved eating at McDonald’s. The Golden Arches! The heaps of greasy, salty French fries, the super-sized burgers, and the extra-large milkshakes. I lived for Mickey D’s. Now I realize that people were probably pointing, staring and laughing as I gorged my already grotesque body with more unnecessary fat.Thankfully, as I grew up, all the fat went away. I still lived for McDonald’s. I just didn’t eat it as often. I might have lost all the weight, but I got pimples from eating all the greasy food.

There’s a Lot on My MindPaige Gilbert and Ms. KnightThoughtshot

It is sooooo hot! I could definitely use a chocolate shake right now! Yikes! I think I just pulled a muscle in my right leg, and this guy

keeps giving me the evil eye. I just need some personal space. I’ve been working so hard lately; a cheeseburger would go great

with that shake. God, I’m so glad I stretched out before this. My leg is killing me! As I look to my right, I realize there are a lot of people out here. Is he

going to take it? Nah, it is mine! Okay, I got to get my head in the game, so I can celebrate our victory

with a chocolate shake!


About the authors...…

Almedina Agic loves writing, especially poetry. It’s one of the things she’d never be able to live without. She’s fifteen and a half, soon to be a sophomore. She enjoys listening to music, dancing like a maniac, reading, and making her friends laugh. Oh—and she’s obsessed with all things England. Almedina was one of the Junior Counselors for Creative Inklings this week. She has participated in National Novel Writing Month since 2007.

Alexandra Chabowski is a ninth grader. She loves to read, dance, and play tennis. She has developed an interest in writing, all thanks to Creative Inklings. She would like to become a nurse. She has a wonderful, loving family and an amazing brother. She has had a lot of fun and amazing times at Creative Inklings. She plans on coming back to Creative Inklings camp next year.

Pioline Choudhury is a carefree 7th grader, heading into the 8th grade. He struck gold when he was eligible to skip 5th grade, thus making him one of the youngest KMS students. He plans on becoming a doctor, but this can easily change. He loves poetry; specifically, haiku, couplets, and free verse poetry. He has been to Creative Inklings multiple times and loves attending.

Mushtary Chowdhury likes math and science. She has two siblings. She hopes one day to be a scientist and find cures for all the diseases in the world. Her favorite hobby is planting a garden. She wants to get A’s from 9th to 12th grade and become the valedictorian. She has learned a lot in Creative Inklings.

Carol Dobos teaches a 5/6 split at Holbrook Elementary. She has been teaching in Hamtramck for ten years in both the middle school and elementary. Before that, she taught language arts and social studies in several Livonia schools. Mrs. Dobos lives in Livonia with her husband, Otto, and their beagle, Casey. She has three children: Andrew, who is married and lives in Arlington, Virginia, working as a Communications specialist; Matt, who lives in Chicago and is a radiology transport supervisor for a major hospital; and Amanda, who is majoring in theatre and art at Arizona State University. Mrs. Dobos enjoys visiting all three kids and being a tourist. As a Language Arts major, she enjoys writing, and currently blogs, “It Is What It Is”. She is working on writing several children’s books. While math is her favorite subject, she is not allowed to mention it during writing camp!


Paige Gilbert is a recent graduate of Cass Technical High School and will be continuing her college career at the State University of New York at Purchase. Her goal is to obtain a Bachelor of Fine Arts Degree and move to New York City to fulfill her dreams of being an actress. She attended the writing camp because being able to express herself through writing is a big part of character-building, which is very instrumental to becoming a better actress. She loves to read. She enjoyed the writing camp because she loves to help and encourage other writers.

Holly Gilbert-Ryle is a bubbly soccer mom of three busy children. When she’s not required to be on mommy-duty, she enjoys reading teen fiction books, making jewelry, and traveling. Ms. Gilbert is really excited about the new school year because she has some exciting ideas for using the new laptops with her sixth grade students. She has been a National Writing Project Teacher Consultant since her completion of the Meadow Brook Writing Project in 2008. She was the Assistant Director of Creative Inklings this week.

Luthfor Khan likes to listen to music in his spare time. He will try to play any sport, but his favorite sport is soccer, which he plays every day. He has five pet fish. Luthfor is going to 7th grade in the fall. He has one brother named Latifur. If he could, Luthfor would stay on a computer all day.

Amina Khatun is Bengali and is in 7th grade. She is a girl that gets along with everyone. She has experience playing the clarinet and is a good student in school. She is thirteen years old. She has one brother, two sisters, a mom, and a dad.

Maria Kinsman has worked for Dickinson West School for the past ten years. She is a dedicated para-pro. She has been in the Hamtramck District for a total of fourteen years. She loves to read. Some of her other hobbies include cooking and walking her two pugs, Cooper and Frankie. Ms. Kinsman has a twenty-seven-year-old daughter, Lynn, who is a pre-school teacher. Her son, David, would have been twenty-one years old. He passed away almost two years ago. David was going to college to become a physical therapist.

Angela Knight is a former middle school teacher who is now a Title I Writing Specialist at Holbrook Elementary. She lives with her husband


and foster cat. In her spare time, she loves to read and write, as well as make jewelry and stained glass projects. She has participated in National Novel Writing Month since 2004. She hopes to someday publish one of her novels. She was the middle level camp director this week. She is the Creative Inklings Program Director, along with Ms. Maslowski. She has been a National Writing Project Teacher Consultant since 1993 and participated in the Eastern Michigan Writing Project in 2005.

Raquel Malcolm is a going to be a 7th grader. She is eleven. She loves to read and write. Raquel wants to go to Yale. She is all-American. She has a brother, a dog, and three cats. Funny, nice, and friendly are only a couple of ways to describe her. She is a good student, and her favorite subject is math. Raquel loves to play the flute and eat.

Tricia Maslowski is excited and proud to see that Creative Inklings is back for the third summer in a row! She loves to work with students who are so motivated and eager to write. Ms. Maslowski’s writing goal this summer is to complete an essay that she started in 2007 about her childhood memories with her grandparents, one of whom is turning 95 this October. She is a Creative Inklings Program Director with Ms. Knight. She has been a National Writing Project Teacher Consultant since her completion of the Eastern Michigan Writing Project in 2007.

Mahmuda Mouri is in 8th grade. She has two sisters: one is in 6th grade and another is in 3rd grade. Her hobbies are reading and writing stories, both fiction and non-fiction. She likes her father, mother, sister, and teacher. Her future plan is to be great doctor. She hopes to come back to next year’s Creative Inklings camp.

Nadija Mujakic likes writing and reading. She has three sisters. She’s about to go to the 7th grade. Hopefully in the future she will become an author, but right now she is sticking to going to writing camps, and writing short stories or poems.

Mizanur Rahman is the only boy in his family. He lives with his father and a mother and three sisters. His sisters’ names are Farjana, Sumaiya, and last but not least, Khadiza. Mizanur enjoys all kind of activities such as basketball, soccer, and football. He listens to rap and R&B. Mizanur loves to hang out with his friends. He enjoys his life and hopes to become a basketball player or a pharmacist when he grows up. Mizanur is going


to seventh grade. He hopes to go to Kosciuszko Middle School. Mizanur loves to play video games and use the computer. He is into “going green” and recycling. He wants to help the world become a better and safer place to live.

Desmond Smith is twelve years old. His birthday is July 27th. He loves to play video games and football, and he enjoys cooking. When he graduates from high school, he will attend Wayne State University to get a degree in mathematics. After completing college, he would like to join the NFL.

Fatima Thompson is the Restorative Practices Coordinator at Dickinson West Elementary. She loves working with children; why else would she take three weeks out of her summer vacation to teach writing camp? She gets enormous gratification from the successes of others, especially those she’s impacted. Writing has become more prevalent in her life lately, although she’s still struggling to fit writing in her busy schedule. Her plan was to read more to become a better writer, but that schedule of hers has once again gotten in the way. So, she’s planning to buy books on tape (do they make those anymore?)/mp3/CD to listen to because she’s spends about 50% of her days in her car and there’s rarely anything good to listen to on the radio. She is so busy because she has three wonderful children who love to let her know that not only is she greatly appreciated, but she is definitely needed. Well, Creative Inklings 2010 week 1 camp has ended, and she’s had a stupendous time sharing and writing. She can’t wait to do it all over again next week as the Assistant Director. She has been a National Writing Project Teacher Consultant since her completion of the Eastern Michigan Writing Project in 2009.

Middle Level Camp StaffDirector: Angela Knight (Holbrook Elementary)Assistant Director: Holly Gilbert-Ryle (Dickinson West)Teachers: Carol Dobos (Holbrook Elementary),

Tricia Maslowski (Dickinson West)Fatima Thompson (Dickinson West),

Para-professional: Maria KinsmanJunior Counselors: Almedina Agic (HHS) and Paige Gilbert


Writing Information

Diamante

The Diamante is a form similar to the Cinquain. The text forms the shape of a diamond. Line 1: Noun or subject - one word Line 2: Two Adjectives that describe line 1 Line 3: Three ‘ing words that describe line 1 Line 4: Four nouns - the first two are connected with line 1; the last two are connected with line 7 Line 5: Three ‘ing words that describe line 7 Line 6: Two adjectives that describe line 7 Line 7: Noun Synonym for the subject from http://www.kathimitchell.com/poemtypes.html

Acknowledgements

The teachers and directors of Creative Inklings would like to thank:• Mr. Ivezaj and the secretaries of Kosciuszko Middle School for hosting our camp and fielding questions• Tim Turner, head custodian of KMS, and his staff for keeping our rooms clean and cool,• Shari Charns, Mr. Niczay, and Glenn Pasternak from theCentral Office for their support, both moral and financial,• Dan Connors and Ms. Shari at KMS for providing and protecting our sack lunches for our writing marathon,• Eastern Michigan Writing Project,• Meadow Brook Writing Project,• Cranbrook Gardens,• Tim and Jake* for their continuing support, patience, and assistance,

…and to all of the voices we have ever heard who have encouragedus all to keep writing.


Index of Authors

A

Agic, Almedina 22-30, 42, 45

C

Chabowski, Alexandra 5-8, 42, 45Choudhury, Pioline 19, 43, 45Chowdhury, Mushtary 17, 43, 45

D

Dobos, Carol 17-20, 44-45, 48G

Gilbert, Paige 33, 44, 46Gilbert-Ryle, Holly 9-11, 46, 48

K

Khan, Luthfor 11-12, 46Khatun, Amina 4, 13-14, 43, 46Kinsman, Maria 10, 43, 46, 48Knight, Angela 39-41, 44, 46, 48

M

Malcolm, Raquel 4, 38-39, 44, 47Maslowski, Tricia 12, 43, 47-48Mouri, Mahmuda 31, 34-35, 47Mujakic, Nadija 8-9, 43, 47

R

Rahman, Mizanur 20-21, 47

S

Smith, Desmond 11, 13-16, 48

T

Thompson, Fatima 34, 36-37, 48

Boom, boom, SCRIBE!...Droplets of water making perfect circles. How does that happen? Cylinder shaped water droplets making circles. Micro ones, gigantic ones! ... The Diamante is

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